


Always a Gentleman

by TheUntitledWritingProject



Series: Then There's These Two (A series of Hancock and SS Oneshots) [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, can't take these two anywhere, pretty much fluff, with a side of embarrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27095836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUntitledWritingProject/pseuds/TheUntitledWritingProject
Summary: A small game of truth or dare gets a little out of hand and leads to a small realization or two.Written for a prompt meme but I may not know the meaning of the word "Drabble"
Relationships: John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor
Series: Then There's These Two (A series of Hancock and SS Oneshots) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977658
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	Always a Gentleman

It had been such a simple challenge, one she hardly batted an eye at, really. Piper had suggested the game, of course. Another way to wring a halfway decent story out of the General during the lulling months following her son’s demise. The table had been set with the five of them. Deacon cheating his ass off, of course. He always picked truth and then continued to tell a tale so outlandish and sometimes so downright mysterious none of them knew whether or not to believe him, making the game pretty much his normal daily routine. Mac was alternating. Each truth would be so juicy he would choose dare next, then each dare so blasted embarrassing he’d flop back. Eliza had half a mind to take pity on him. Only half of it though, the other half very much remembered being drenched in mirelurk juice after he headshot one she had already gutted and was inclined to be much less merciful. Piper was sticking close to truths as well, trading information for equally tantalizing information. She would have made a fortune before the war, provided she could stay silent long enough to get the right information to the right people. But Piper wasn’t that type of woman, wasn’t the type keep something from people that needed to know it just for some extra caps. Something Eliza admired about her. Piper played truths, she and John chose dares.

She wasn’t exactly sure when he had become John, really. The ghoul mayor of Goodneighbor had a bad habit of keeping everyone at arm’s length. He’d somehow wormed his way into her good graces, or perhaps, she’d entered his. Either way, a small slip up of “Sunshine” instead of his usual “sister” and a look of mutual understanding had set her on admittedly shaky ground and both of them on a first name basis. To Piper she was Blue, to Preston she was General, to a few of the others she was Boss, to John…she was just Eliza. Or Z, when the mood struck him. She loved it, oddly enough. She’d been Elizabeth, Eliza, Lizzy, Liz, or just L many times in her life, in many different capacities. No one had ever tried Z before.

The understanding had ended there, though. Just Z, Sunshine, or Eliza. No slip-ups. No wondering hands or too forward innuendos. The utmost respect from the man commonly believed to be the least respectable member of their little party…barring Strong, of course. He had always been that way though, taking every word she uttered as a compliment with a self-deprecating jab and eyes far wider than they had been a few seconds before. It was…infuriating, really. She was used to the slow dance of romance, true, but there was a difference between playing coy and the sheerly honest surprise that always seemed to play across his features. The game was most definitely not making it better.

Oh it had started simple enough. A few dares to eat something that would probably kill her if she wasn’t loaded with stimpacks. One to shoot a bottle off Mac’s head that she refused outright for the sake of not killing her friend. A couple times attempting to call Charlie over to their rather large table in the back of the Rail for the most ridiculous reasons, including announcing her bid for Diamond City mayor against Nick Valentine, her shockingly public relationship with the one and only Magnolia, and her incredibly horrible obsession with his bowler hat. All false, of course. Nick had flat out refused the position as Mayor and Magnolia had been perfectly discreet during their little dalliance.

It was Piper who had dared it, of course it was. She had just finished a dare to convince a rather scruffy looking stranger to buy her a drink. Far too easy, something she’d learned an entirely different lifetime ago, though she had apparently not been aware of its true intention, unaware of a certain set of eyes watching her all the way through. Eliza forgot that the newswoman was every bit as observant as herself and twice as devious. Well, maybe not twice, but relatively close by any measuring stick. Eliza was surprised to be picked twice in a row, the woman’s game apparently interesting enough to her she gave it away all too quickly. She’d whispered her next challenge, denying the others pleasure of hearing what caused the usually composed lawyer to blush ever so slightly. Oh…now that was an idea…dangerously so…

“John” she crooned gently, smiling over at the ghoul sitting so close beside her, “I believe I need you to help with this one.” Those eyes went wide again, blinking quickly before narrowing at her in suspicion. She loved it, watching the emotions flicker so easily. Most people say ghouls are difficult to read, the lines and missing features cut off normal human emotion. But oh how wrong truly wrong they were. John’s face was far more honest than the man himself, every tell clear in the way those dark eyes moved, in the trace of his brow, the curve of his lips. It was enticing, really, watching the way he worked, confidence always undercut when you knew where to look. He nodded all the same, following her as she rose, offering her his arm, the perfect gentleman.

“Thank you” she smiled quietly, squeezing the offered hand gently, “But I just need to borrow your jacket”

And wasn’t that a response? Alarm and confusion raced across his face, warring with the gin he’d consumed as he shrugged out of his usual ensemble all the same. “Careful with ‘em Z” he chuckled tensely, handing over the well-worn coat with care, fingers brushing along hers as he did so. She nodded graciously a second too late, trying too hard to ignore the spark that ran through her from such a simple contact. Interesting. She could have done it right there of course, the dare a bit embarrassing but not exactly calling for immodesty. Not that she cared about modesty to begin with. But no, if she was going to get a few stares, she might as well cause a scene while doing it. She strode off to the backroom instead, trying terribly hard to look anywhere but John as she pulled the curtain between the two.

She laid the centuries-old garment down with as much care as she afforded her rifle, careful not to crinkle it as she slid out of her own General’s coat, folding it neatly as she went. Her bracers and holsters slid off easily enough, practiced hands making a quick job of her task. The vest she always wore over her white shirt joined them promptly, a neat pile of herself safe in the room Charlie rarely allowed visitors into. The red coat seemed… almost daunting where it lay, the preciousness of the garment undercut with a small thrill at the thought of wearing it. It smelled…surprisingly good for a coat worn almost daily. Something spicey like rum mixed with the mentats he seemed to love so much, the warm aroma she always got when standing a bit closer to him than she probably should have enveloping her completely as she slid it on. She’d forgotten how good this felt, to be surrounded by the scent of someone who’d loaned her their jacket. Such a small thing to remember, all those dates headed home with Nate’s slung around her shoulders. The small stab of pain hit as she did, easing after the years that had passed but not gone. She doubted it would ever fade completely. But the warmth of John’s own clothes didn’t exactly inspire guilt either. The man had sat with her many a night as she grieved a man he would never know and a son the commonwealth feared. There was nothing wrong with having a heart big enough to start again. Eliza wasn’t exactly a sentimental woman by any means, but she would kill for any member of that table. Without question.

She looked down at the coat that was perhaps just a bit too long, ignoring the sudden impulse to twirl like a girl in a dress shop. Her white button-up wasn’t exactly the frills his ghoulness always sported, but it would do nicely. She unbuttoned the top three buttons regardless, just in case. Her goal was simple, walk through the Rail in full view of what could almost be considered the entire town, wearing the infamous robe of the one and only Hancock, order a drink, and deliver it to the man himself. Easy as pie, really. The knots in her stomach were entirely unfounded, of course. She steadied her shoulders, the clack of her heels echoing as she made her entrance.

If she heard the shush as her appearance, she made no note of it, eyes trained on Charlie as she sauntered over to the bar. Let them look. Hell, the whole point was for them to look. The eyes on the back of her neck meant she was winning, of course. This was a challenge, nothing more. No worse then the time she streaked across the college square to beat the rather proper sorority girl who had refused to try something as simple as curry, of all things. Strange that that game had been far less tame than the one she appeared to be having with several people capable of shooting a man, among other fun and exciting skills. She smiled promptly at Charlie, batting her eyelashes as two of his three eyes seemed to widen at the sight of her. He didn’t bother asking what she wanted, setting two bottles of what little top-shelf he kept in stock for their more…productive visitors. “Good luck girly” he gruffed instead, one eye nodding towards the table she had recently vacated. Her sight followed his. She almost wished it hadn’t.

Nearly black eyes were trained on her, flickering to her own with an expression she had never seen before from the ghoul. The loss of his coat left him open, his posture far more relaxed than she expected it to be. The sleeves of that shirt, usually tucked underneath nearly overwhelming red, were rolled up, exposing the long lines of his arm. The frills of the collar had fallen open without the jacket to smooth them down, showing much more of his chest than she anticipated. Something shaky ran through her breath, warmth pooling in her chest as the edge of his mouth turned up, far too pleased for the man currently missing his usual armor.

He liked what he saw. She echoed the sentiment wholeheartedly.

The sounds of the Rail seemed to start back up around her, Magnolia smoothing over the scandal with far too smooth of tones to be anything but directed at them. Something in the back of her head begged her to move, urging her to put one foot in front of the other. He beat her to it, rising from his chair once more. Piper gave her a thumbs up from behind him as he strode lazily toward her, his chest nearly bumping hers as he reached around her to place down what she assumed as caps for Charlie.

The same rum and mentats smell from his jacket filled her senses as he bent close, hand grasping under her chin gently. “It seems we have some business to discuss…” he rumbled, nearly pressing her back against the bar as he moved ever closer. Black eyes dropped slowly to her mouth, her lips parting slightly under its attention. Her heart seemed to pound in her chest, the alarm bells that should be protecting what little social sense she had suspiciously absent, sense instead urging her to lean up. To close the gap and throw whatever the hell this was into full force. Far too close. Not close enough. He smirked at the small stutter of a movement she hadn’t realized she gave, leaning back only to offer his arm like he had before.

The world seemed so off-kilter as she took it, nearly wrapping herself around it as her instincts finally clicked in with his. Far too warm. Far too heady. Far too long since she had felt anything like this. She smirked up at him coyly, falling into step as he led her from the bar. “To the office then…” she suggested, watching the surprise and hope mingle with the embers in his expression now. So genuine. Always so genuine. The small squeeze he gave to her hand as he wrapped his fingers around her own only added to the coiling warmth within her chest, his dark eyes shining with shared sentiment.

He tipped his hat to Hamm on their way out. Always a gentleman.


End file.
